Dangerous Neighborhood

    This cute little fuzzy guy will grow up to be an Eastern Tent Moth. He is a docile caterpillar who allowed me to pick him up and move him several times in order to get this photograph.

    He is also responsible for an untold number of deaths.

    In the spring of 2001 race horse breeders and their veterinarians began reporting that pregnant mares were losing their unborn foals at an alarming rate. In Kentucky alone approximately 2600 unborn foals were lost. The value of the lost foals was estimated to be from 350 to 500 million dollars.

    After a lot of hard work researchers were able to establish that the pregnant mares had eaten Eastern Tent Moth Caterpillars. Those little fuzzy hairs? Under an electron microscope investigators saw barbs on them. Like a rose stem with thorns. When a mare ate a caterpillar the hairs penetrated the lining of her digestive tract and entered her bloodstream. The hairs had bacteria on them. As they traveled around in the blood some of them entered the unborn foal's body and caused a fatal bacterial infection followed by abortion.

    My apologies to any naturalists that may view my blog. These caterpillars like cherry and apple trees. I took this little fellow from his tree and put him on a flower in order to get a more attractive photo. 

    While fetching him from his tree I noticed a very small movement directly to my right. When I looked more closely I recognized an old acquaintance shown in a previous blog. They were one half inch longWheel Bugs. Mama Wheel Bug knew what she was doing when she laid her eggs nearby because Wheel Bugs eat caterpillars. These young Wheel Bugs were only 1/2 inch long, including their antennae.

    Eastern Tent Moth Caterpillars are interesting to read about. They make nests that are comfortable in a variety of temperatures and when they find food they create scent trails for their housemates to follow. If you would like to read more click on this link.

    If you would like to see an electron micrograph of a barbed hair click here. And just to add a small "ick" factor, there are medical reports of people getting these in their eyes.

Excuse Me

    A raccoon has recently decided to use the hayloft in my horse barn for a potty. This is called a "raccoon latrine." I Googled raccoon latrine and got 17,900 hits in 0.15 seconds. This is obviously a much bigger problem than I realized.
    I chose to follow the advice of a county public health site on the web. "We are the government. We are here to help." Right?
    I followed their instructions to the letter and cleaned up my latrine exactly as they advised. I had to wear protective gear and take multiple precautions as some raccoon feces may carry a deadly parasite.
    Following all this effort the obvious next step was to place something in the hayloft that would prevent the raccoon from returning. The government recommends either mothballs or coyote urine. Wouldn't you know it?  I was completely out of coyote urine! So it would have to be mothballs.
     I spent quite a lot of time placing mothballs all over the hayloft. This is not as easy as it might seem. My hayloft is not tall enough to allow an adult to stand upright. And the only 4 ft tall child I know was busy Sunday. So I stooped over for hours on this job.
    The theory is that the mothballs smell so bad (true) that the raccoon would not return (false.)
    After all my hard work I wanted to see how things were going.  I parked my car outside of the barn and was greeted by the overwhelming odor of mothballs baking in the warm spring air. Confident that this unnatural scent would repel any wild animal I climbed up to the hayloft. There, before my eyes, were at least six little raccoon piles. All of them deposited within inches of my carefully applied mothballs.
    I resolved that none of this would be in vain. I would get a photo! So I set up my trusty deer-cam and got the little guy's picture on the second try.
  
  
  

Hodge Podge

    According to Wikipedia a hodge podge is " a word used to describe a confused or disorderly mass or collection of things; a 'mess' or a 'jumble.'" 

    I would like to present a hodge podge of images from my Saturday at the Civil War reenactment. 

    Reenacting. It's not just for adults.

    I like close ups of the gear. Here you can see his knife, belt buckle and bayonet.

    An officer shouts commands to his troops. Most officers eventually sent their swords home for safe keeping, preferring instead to carry more useful weapons such as revolvers or rifles.

    I was surprised to learn that wooden canteens were common, especially among the Confederate troops. Any areas that leaked were sealed with bee's wax.

    Even the metal canteens had cork stoppers.

    The blacksmith made this grill so that it disassembled into many long pieces. It was then easy to pack for transport on a wagon.

    

    My research assistant, otherwise known as my daughter, found all sorts of explanations on the internet for the upside down US belt buckles. Some sources say that the practice, while common during reenactments, may not have commonly occurred in history. 

    Even the most devoted reenactor needs a cold Pepsi on a hot day.

    For a calendar of events commemorating the 150th anniversary of the Civil War in the state of North Carolina go to www.nccivilwar150.com.

Orphans and Dulcimers

       Each March there is a reenactment at a Civil War battlefield site near my home. During this year's visit  I  came upon a reenactor as he listened to a young girl playing a haunting tune on her dulcimer. He seemed familiar with the music and had a faraway look in his eyes as he softly sang the words.
     I felt as if I had been transported back in time. Here was a Confederate soldier longing for home while remembering a more carefree time.
    Perhaps this soldier is a member of the 4th Kentucky Infantry. They were called the "Orphan Brigade" because once they left Kentucky they did not see their homes again until the war ended. Members of this reenactment unit  portray original members of Company "F", 4th Kentucky Infantry and assume the identity (alter ego) of those original soldiers during events. The 4th began the war with 5,000 men. At the end of the war they numbered 500.

Information for this post comes from the book "Uniform, Weapons, and Equipment of the Civil War" by Miller, and the web site for the 4th Kentucky Infantry reenactors, http://www.4thkycs.com/

Boys to Men

    No one knows how many soldiers in the American Civil War were under the age of seventeen at enlistment. The majority of records do not list age or date of birth. From the information we do have it is safe to say that tens of thousands of soldiers were between the ages of 11 and 17.

    Many entered the service as musicians. Some of the drummers were so short that their regulation drums dragged the ground as they marched. Smaller drums had to be obtained for them to use. A large number of these young buglers, fifers and drummers became members of fighting units soon after being mustered in.

    William Horsfall was 14 years old when he ran away from his home in Kentucky to join the Confederate Army as a drummer. Just one year later he fought as a sharpshooter in Mississippi where he earned the Medal of Honor for dragging a wounded captain off the battlefield. It is interesting to note that he did so after being asked by a lieutenant who was probably older and stronger than William.

    As always, the photos on this blog are mine. The information is taken from the book "Babes in Arms. Boy Soldiers in the Civil War" by Anne Palagruto, published in 2010, pages 112-113.

Going, Going, Almost Gone!

    Kira and I went for a walk at one of our state parks today. We went early in the morning so we would have the place all to ourselves.
    Kira is quite an enthusiastic walker. She had a wonderful time and so did I. How funny it is that the federal government had to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on a study to learn what we all knew anyway. Walking with a dog is much more fun than walking alone.
    We reached an overlook surrounded by a beautiful stone wall. Many of the walls in our parks were built during the Great Depression by the Civilian Conservation Corps and I always enjoy looking at them. From this particular overlook there is a 144 foot drop to the river below.
    As we entered the area Kira shot forward, threw her front feet up onto the top of the wall, and dug her back claws into the vertical surface as she prepared to launch herself into the great unknown. Only a quick shout from me accompanied by a firm tug on the leash brought her safely to earth. On my side of the wall.
    Next week I revisit the Civil War. I hope you will join me.
  

Rainbows and Blueberries

    "The work will wait while you show the child the rainbow, but the rainbow won't wait while you do the work." 

         author unknown

         

     My grandson came over Sunday. Spring has come to us early so I took him for a walk outside.
    Actually, I walked. He is always carried like the son of an Egyptian pharaoh.
    A breeze blew the baby's hair and he raised his eyebrows. A hawk cried overhead. I helped Jacob touch his fat little hands to the flowering trees while the crow cawed a warning to his flock that we were about.
    I had toured the same yard the day before. With a child in my arms  I noticed for the first time how pretty the blueberry bush is when in bloom. I resolved to get up early the next morning and take a photo in the soft just-after-dawn light.
    Thank you, Jake, for showing me this.